if i could save time in a bottle

She's four now, she likes to tell me. Stop growing, I say. No! she says. Her laughter bellows out in front of her. I can't do that mama, I'm growing bigger and bigger. But I can't hold you the same and my arms don't know what to do, I say but I'm smiling. I tell her I love her so much, this child, my heart. I love you too, she says. But I'm still getting bigger! She pats me on the head and runs from the room.

Later though, in the quiet of bathtime and gentle splashing I hear her, Daddy, she says, Mommy doesn't want me to grow. Oh baby, she does. She just misses your babyness too. I know, Daddy. I'm going to stay with her forever. And I lean against the wall in our tiny hall, my head resting against cool plaster. Do that, I think. Let's just do that.

In other news, she and I managed to co-review a cool new game this week, come by and see for yourself.

giving notice

We are bumping up against the start of BlogHer and The People's Party, which I have the pleasure of hosting alongside these five lovely and talented sisters. My "hosting" is a word I'll use loosely here, the real rockstar of the bunch is Megan , who has rounded up enough sponsors to make sure everyone gets free drinks. Jenny wanted to do a live feed for those of you who can't attend but want to watch and the good women at Kirtsy have decided to indulge her so if you can't be there you can watch it here. She might be naked, so take that as a warning from me to you. Or it's a potential photo op. Or better, blackmail material. You decide.

And on the less drinky but still kicky end of things, I'll be speaking about our Just Posts on Saturday at the Beautiful Blogging panel. This little soiree is moderated by Kyran Pittman from Notes To Self and will also include Krystyn Heide from the Hope Revolution, Alyssa Royse from Just Cause It! and Lucrecer Braxton, and her Art Slam initiative, all new writers to me with really amazing blogs. If you haven't yet discovered them you should go check them out, each blog is full of love and hope and art and goodness.

And on the still kicky and more thinky side I've got a new review up about educational resources and learning activities for little ones, a very cool thing for us parents with kids ages 4-8.

hot luck

It has been hot here, so very hot. It was 95 degrees in our house the other day, I even noticed my chapstick melting inside it's case. I am not a fan of this sort of global warming heat but I suppose this is the beginning of the prices we'll all pay.

Our hike this weekend was fantastic. We swirled down and around a creek and saw a million lizards and brought enough water and M complained 50% less than usual. Things are coming to a head, we are getting ready for some enormous changes and it's almost scary how well things are falling into place. After our hike we were all busy, M wrecking havoc J cleaning out a closet and me making some food when I saw J staring out a window. I asked him what he was thinking and he looked at me smiling and said I just can't believe how lucky we are and I nodded and smiled because I've got some trouble believing it too That doesn't mean everything is perfect as it hardly ever is but it does mean that our hard work is starting to pay off in fits and starts.

I've got a review up at my other spot about some sweet little girl barrettes. Stop by before you go because I'm raffling a couple of them off and you know you want in on the action.

one deer 7 banana slugs and a dead mole

It was our first deer. We walked around the corner of the trail and I spot her standing so lovely and inquisitive on the path. I grabbed M and lifted her up look baby, it's your first deer and her eyes light up but the deer wasn't one for adoring glances so off she went into the trees and out of sight. The day was near perfect, a bit chilly but we were on a lovely wooded 3 mile loop and M was rocking it without complaining, not even once.

We had a picnic by the creek, sitting on the rocks and it's there M finds her first banana slug and in quick succession 2-7, her exclaimations triumphant and resounding each time, only a toddler can find the same energy for the same thing over and over and yet she reminds me in those moments of what matters most. I pause on the rocks and dip my fingers in the cold water and I think of the water of my youth and of where I am going and for a brief moment it all feels crisp and clear and perfect too.

The mole was not so lucky, we found him belly up. Moles are extraordinarily cute, aren't they all puffy and grey and little fat flipper feet. We spent the rest of the hike with M needing to figure out how it died, how it died in a way that wasn't that bad. Maybe he was old mama, maybe that was it or maybe he fell out of the tree. I really don't think anyone hurt him mama do you? We debated these harsh realities until suddenly it was forgotten, the mist rising over the mountains and the promise of a snack at the end of the trail proved too alluring even for the mole.

And you'll all be proud to hear that for the first time since we've begun this hiking journey we did not run out of water. Finally and for the love of all things holy it's about time we are finding our groove.

Before you go hop over to my review blog and read about an eco-friendly game for the little ones. Because if we must consume, at least we can do it with kindness and less plastic. And lastly, oh people my people, send me your Just Posts to girlplustwoATyahooDOTcom, our April Roundtable is coming up soon.

respect your mother

Dear Mother Earth,

I am humbled by your majesty. The turning of the seasons, the rain and sun and wind, the natural wonders and all your creatures great and small. And yet I do not respect you. I do not respect you and I kick you in the shin. I use you. I climb your trees and walk on your mountains and breathe your air and swim in your oceans. And yet I do not respect you.

If I respected you I would not have bought those bananas today, bananas that came from Ecuador because bananas are all my child wants to eat and instead of teaching her to enjoy local produce I bought bananas that were shipped thousands of miles. My lack of discipline causes you to suffer.

If I respected you I would take public transportation. I have a million excuses about why I cannot take public transportation every day but the truth is I am weak, and my weakness causes you to suffer.

If I respected you I would grow my own food. I've tried to grow my own food in the past but I've become too busy and it's been too difficult to manage in the last few years. So I don't grow my own food because I am lazy and I don't prioritize well. My laziness causes you to suffer.

If I respected you I would never buy anything made of plastic. But I do buy things made of plastic, things that are often completely unnecessary like the plastic blocks I bought for M. She wanted them and I bought them. My lack of commitment causes you to suffer.

Forgive me mother, for I continue to sin. I continue to widen my footprint and live larger than I need to. I continue to blame others and point fingers and wait for Them to do Something. But something begins with me. I am sorry, Mother. I will miss the polar bears when they are gone and I will have no one to blame but myself. But I promise you yet again, one last confessional on the hill that I will try and try again to do right by you, to show you my respect.

There's a review up over at my other spot today too. A review of a product that comes in handy when I am taking long road trips. Forgive me, Mother, for the gas I waste on those long road trips. I am selfish and that selfishness causes you to suffer.

burning my eyes open

A few of you asked for more Burning Man stories and I will happily oblige because I know there are people who haven't had great experiences at the Man but mine were filled with magic. It's not an easy week, the heat is unbearable and you are completely responsible for your own resources and unless you are rich and go in an RV there is little escape. The days are spent recuperating under makeshift shade structures, but as the night falls the action kicks in.

We had found a campsite across from the Soylent Baby Camp. They had a conveyor belt where you'd place a can of food and it would go through some sort of motions and spit a baby out on the other end. The fact that there was a naked old man with a long beard and a bottle of scotch cranking them out sealed the deal and the baby was a gift. Baby in hand I began the long walk to the center of town where the most spectacular displays are featured. I'd been imbibing in the spirits so things were a bit vivid to begin with and as I walked through town I ran into Jesus and the Devil hand in hand. The Devil gave me a long hug and absolved me of my sins while Jesus smiled and nodded. The next stop was a walk down a trippy subliminal memory lane, and then we paused at a downtempo lounge where exotic women were dancing to their own groove. I caught a few fire handlers and encountered some strange, strange electrical squids. I was hugged countless times and by the time I was done my day glo body paint must have been shared with a hundred new found stranger friends.

It's no exaggeration that you are completely overwhelmed with creativity every single square foot of your journey. And everyone is welcoming. I was offered food and drink and gifts everywhere I went and by the time it's over you stumble back to your camp and fall asleep under the wide Nevada sky. And the next night you head off in a different direction and it's a whole other explosion of sensory delights. It's dehydrating and unbelievable and magical and freeing and out of this world because every single thing is okay as long as it's not hurtful to anyone else.

And I really think we are onto something with a Burning Bloggers Camp. We can do it, but it'll require commitment and organization. We can do communal everything and we can bring kids or not bring kids and it will all work out just fine. It might not be for everyone, but I think with a little letting go and a sense of adventure it would rock your world and change the way you want to live in it.

As we were leaving the festival we were one of a thousand dusty cars on caravan through the desert. The wind can bring serious dust storms and everyone and everything is covered in fine white dust. As we edged our way out we came upon a man with a sign that said he needed $100 to get home. We rolled down our window and went to hand him money and he replied that it was ok, he raised what he needed in 10 minutes and didn't need it. And that alone summed it all up because he wasn't taking more than he needed and in a few moments everyone who passed by lended a hand.

Three days after I returned from Burning Man that year 9/11 happened and the world turned on it's head. It was impossible to reconcile where I'd just been from the horror that was unfolding and the juxtaposition of the two is something that still confounds me to this day. That the potential for love and light and utopia exists alongside the capacity for terrible horrors and yet each day we soldier on and do what we can to move forward in this great big world of ours. And how a little burn could go a long way for all of us and might even change the world.

I've got a new review up over at my other spot so check it out before you go because I made a book. Or personalized a book. But still, it rocks.

what a long strange trip it's been

A came to us eight or nine years ago as a hardened and complex guy with a host of mental health and addiction issues. He was battered and lonely and abused as a child, he was taught to hate and learned by example. He fought hard in Vietnam when he was 18 and came home and lived a bastard sort of life, cheating on women and fathering children he couldn't care for. He admitted once to killing someone and spent some time in jail. He smoked crack on and off and drank too much till his liver started protesting. He stole things occasionally or regularly, these things tend to blur. He was a con man but a good man. Nothing's ever simple on the streets.

By the time I met him he'd stopped most of the nonsense. He was still struggling with addiction and stole things out of my office once or twice. But he also took the new folks under his wing and took care of everyone. He'd root around in dumpsters and find all kinds of treasures and clean them up and share them with others. He watched my back even as he'd lie to my face. He'd give me a hard time and allow the same in return.

Several years ago we were able to help him get permanent housing and I remember him telling me that a suicidal homicidal guy like me trusts no one. black is black and white is white and you're white and you'll never understand. but you still helped me, an crazy old black man like me and that says a lot and I think I can make it this time. And then he turned around and hit the crack pipe and smoked all his good fortune away in less than a year.

He'd come around from time to time, hopping from shelter to program and back again. He'd always greet me warmly and give me a little shit. I'd ask about him over time and sometimes folks had news and other times nothing. I hadn't seen him for a couple of years when my phone rang yesterday.

Are you still sitting up in your ivory tower? Come outside and see who's come to visit.

It was A. I ran outside and there he was dressed in a suit, something I had never seen. And he looked healthy and a bit overweight which is something he'd never managed while doing drugs. I gave him a giant hug and prattled on about how great he looked and he stood there in the sun grinning ear to ear.

Turns out he got himself into another program away from us and this time something clicked. He's been dealing with his illness and getting help and staying clean and telling the truth. He's saving money and working and volunteering as a way of giving back and taking care of business. He's made amends with his children while knowing he has to earn it and doesn't really deserve it he's trying just the same.

And then just as abruptly as he appeared he turned and said he had to go. He gave me another hug and walked off down the street and never looked back. I watched him walk for the longest time, a million lifetimes inside that walk. Because sometimes people find what they need after they leave and while you can't understand you realize it was finally his time and you rejoice all the same. He'll never really know how much he helped me grow up along the way because at least as much as I gave to him he'd given back to me. I cut my teeth on this man and I tried and failed and he tried and failed and one day he stopped failing and I had no part in that success and yet it was mine all the same.

And he must know it too because he came to show me and didn't ask for a thing. With guys like A nothing is certain and who knows if it will stick but a girl's gotta believe in something.

And besides, he looked mighty fine in that suit.

Before you go stop by my other gig where I review something that has absolutely nothing to do with homelessness, crack or the streets.

word to your mother

Amusing moment from the weekend:

Friend: I hate my mother in law so f'ing much!
Me: Whoa. Dude. The vitrol.
Friend: I do. I HATE her.
Me: Wow. The only person I can muster up that kind of hate for is the Entire Bush Administration.
Friend: Oh, yeah. When you put it that way I suppose I hate her a little less than that.

Stop over and check out my book review before you go. It's about alternatives to pharmaceuticals and who doesn't love the thought of that.

jen passes judgment

I have a neighbor I really like. She lives down the street with her husband and two kids. We've not spent much time together outside of random park encounters, but there have been quite a few of those over the past few years.

But her husband, see, I want to kick him in the shin. And yes, I am passing major judgment based on little information. He's from another part of the world. He's very good looking. Enjoys nice cars. He's got a great tattoo. And I've never seen him with his children. Never once alone, never once as a couple unless it's been in their yard at home. Never once.

She's with them by herself every single time. She's a terrific mom, very kind, patient, grounded. And overworked, tired, alone. Again, this is based on little information. We never talk about this. Even though every time I am with her I want to. And yet, the kinder thing seems to not pursue it. She's dropped small comments, nothing elaborate, it's told me enough. I've opened the door, and she's not walked through. The kinder thing seems to not pursue it.

I bet that before they had kids it was different, but now she's the mother, she has a job to do. And the game is on, don't bother me.

I am passing judgment. I might be wrong, I don't think so, but it's possible. And it's clearly none of my business. And curiouser still is why it bothers me so. This has nothing to do with me, impacts my life in virtually no way at all. And yet I care, I care because I know now what it takes to raise a child; the pain and exhaustion, the joy and laughter. If I had to do it alone, I would and I could. It's not about that. It's about having someone right there next to you who chooses not to do his part.

That's what makes me want to kick him in the shin. But more than that, it's interesting what my reaction says about me. Something very distant from my peace love and understanding frame of mind, and I am not entirely sure I like that, either. Perhaps I should be kicking myself instead.

On a different note, I had the chance to drive a fancy green hybrid this month. Check out my review over here and see for yourself.

nobody puts baby in the corner

I picked M up from daycare the other day and her teacher took me aside. There's a bit of an issue, she said. M's friend K has been expressing her love for M in inappropriate ways. But not to worry, we are working on it.

I always appreciate the way the mighty women of daycare try and handle me. I understand it completely; they never know which parent is going to go ballistic over what issue. Careful dancing and prancing with Positive Adjectives is important. I get it. I don't need it, but I get it.

It turns out that M and K have started spending a lot of time together, and K is a martial arts karate chopping hair pulling death stomping little girl. And she's showing her love for M in all kinds of ways. In fact, I am gazing out into the group of kids while the teacher is talking to me and I see K grab M by the hair and take her down.

Ouch.

M starts crying, sees me, and cries some more. I thought she did an especially nice job of throwing herself in my arms in hysterics. Nice touch, baby. Way to drive the point home.

So My Inside Voice says keep that kid the hell away from M or there won't be a lot of Positive Adjectives in my future. See, M doesn't hit. We have a philosophy of kindess in our home and I've worked hard at this (stop laughing. It's my fantasy world and I am still living in it). My Outside Voice says all the appropriate things about developmental changes and toddler interactions and of course, group love. You know the bullshit I speak of.

M and I are driving home and I ask her about K. She tells me that K hits and pulls her hair and it makes her sad. I asked her what she does when it happens and she said I cry, mommy. Ok, I think, baby's done crying. Baby's going on defense.

So M and I talk about how precious and powerful and amazing she is, and about how she has every right to stand up for herself if she's being hurt. And how it doesn't matter who is hurting her, she has the right to tell them to stop, but she should use her words instead of hitting or pushing back (remember, I have a PHILOSOPHY, people). So we practiced yelling STOP! at the top of our lungs and M was laughing hysterically and screeching NO, K! STOP! all the way home. When we got home we talked to J about it and he reinforced what we'd talked about and we all practiced yelling a few more STOPS! Our neighbors probably thought we were nuts, or at the very least a bit afraid.

The next day I picked M up from school and one of her teachers said Wow, M really stuck up for herself today. Whenever K tried to pull her hair, she would hold her hand in front of her and yell STOP, K, NO! She was never aggressive, but she sure held her ground, and it worked out really well. My Outside Voice said all the appropriate things. My Inside Voice was cheering her ass off.

We celebrated the whole way home. See, mum, I am trying to raise a warrior in training, too.

And for other M related news, check out my latest review. It's all about diapers, the agony and the ecstasy both.